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  November 2016
volume 13 number 2
-table of contents-
  home   (archived)
  contributing poets
  Inalegwu Omapada Alifa
  Maria A Arana
  Shawn Aveningo
  Wendy Bourke
  Jack G. Bowman
  Alan Britt
  Adam Levon Brown
  Jeffrey Bryant
  Don Kingfisher Campbell
  Alicia Carpenter
  Natalie Crick
  Carla Criscuolo
  Frank De Canio
  Marvin Louis Dorsey
  Miguel Eichelberger
  John LaMar Elison
  Gabriella Garofalo
  Dave Houston
  Dani Raschel JimĂ©nez
  Scott C. Kaestner
  Sofia Kioroglou
  Deborah P Kolodji
  Rick Lupert
  Donal Mahoney
  Afric McGlinchey
  Frank Mundo
  Chika Onyenezi
  Adam Phillips
  Bethany W Pope
  Nydia Rojas
  Diana Rosen
  Walter Ruhlmann
  Papa Vic
  mailing list
Donal Mahoney
November 2016



photo by marie c lecrivain

    Donal Mahoney, a native of Chicago, lives in St. Louis, Missouri. His fiction and poetry have appeared in various publications, including The Wisconsin Review, The Kansas Quarterly, The South Carolina Review, The Christian Science Monitor, The Chicago Tribune and Commonweal.
    Some of his work can be found at locksmith/donal-mahoney poet.html#sthash.OSYzpgmQ.dpbs=



Dial 'M' for Memories

Willie in his 80s now
hadn't made sense in years.
His wife understood his
grunts from the recliner
where she propped him up
till bedtime where snoring
was music in the night.

His grandson told neighbors
Gramps had Old-Timer's Disease,
an excellent diagnosis
with which doctors agreed.
It was time to move Gramps
to a home so his wife began
packing things he would need.
It was then she found
an old photo in a drawer
under his socks and shorts.
It was dated 1948, still clear
though crinkled a bit.

It was Gramps' class photo
from his 8th-grade graduation.
All the young faces were suns
gleaming in their own universe.
She showed it to Willie when
she brought him his lunch.
He blinked and pointed to a girl
in the third row and said,
"Call Carol and tell her
we're going to the movies.
Tom Mix and 25 cartoons."

His wife was old enough
to remember that a Western
and 25 cartoons were a
regular Saturday matinee
at the local film house
for kids in 1948.
But she was two years
behind Willie and had
never gone with him.

Besides she was still shook
just to hear Willie talk.
This was the first sentence
he had offered in years.
She didn't know what to say.
Finally she said she didn't
know what Carol's number was
so how could she call?
Willie looked her in the eye
with a twinkle from long ago
and said "Prospect 6-3943."

copyright 2016 Donal Mahoney